


This Thing We Keep

by foxcatcher



Series: Same Kind of Bad [3]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: A Ridiculous Number of Orgasms, Anal Sex, Bad Ideas, Crying, Dom/sub Undertones, Dry Orgasm, Jealousy, M/M, No One Talks About Feelings Ever, Overstimulation, Payback, Pete Being a Tease, Sexy Turtlenecks, Tense Parties, The Usual Oral Fixation, Triple H is Sleazy, more porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 03:54:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17594105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxcatcher/pseuds/foxcatcher
Summary: Hunter was leaning in closer now, thedog, close enough that their faces were nearly touching, the hand on Pete’s back dipping even lower...





	This Thing We Keep

**Author's Note:**

> Guess what, more porn! I couldn't help myself...
> 
> I tried to imagine how Pete and Regal's totally-not-a-relationship would change as Pete became more comfortable with everything, and I figured he would probably revert straight back to his asshole ways. And Regal would not deal with it at all. I had initially planned to write this about a specific title defence, but I must have confused myself during the writing process, so it takes place after an unspecific retaining of the UK championship, and I went for a round number as to Pete's reign.
> 
> Title from "Genghis Khan" by Miike Snow. Inspired by _that_ gif-set of HHH and Pete.

They were backstage.

That much wasn’t surprising. William felt like he lived backstage more than he lived in his actual flat most of the time, and it was probably true. Life passed, split between the office and the performance centre and the ring, with only brief interludes of going home to sleep and change, when he had that luxury. Sad as it might seem at times, he didn’t particularly mind. The only difference these days was that something else had wormed its way into the routine.

If Regal allowed himself to think about it, it was remarkable how easily Pete had become a fixture in his life. For so long, everything had revolved around wrestling and nothing else – living it, breathing it, day in and day out. And suddenly, there was Pete. As natural as going to NXT tapings or coaching at the performance centre. No more, no less. He wasn't sentimental about whatever it was they had. He made sure Pete got what he needed, keeping their champ in line, and took what he wanted in return. That was the whole of it. Maybe it ought to feel stranger than it did, but it didn't. It had just kind of happened, slowly settling ever since Regal had first cornered Pete and seen that lost look in his eyes.

And now they were backstage.

Again.

It was the usual wrap party they had once in a blue moon – canapes, drinks, overly friendly pats on the back, the whole works. Regal didn’t really care. Usually, he’d welcome any opportunity to rub elbows and talk shop, but not tonight.

For a start, he’d been cornered by Michael Cole, who was performing something that could only be described as a one-man dialogue about… something. Not a monologue, no - Cole was actively asking and answering his own questions, an unending stream of slightly drunk Now-that’s-what-I-thought’s and I’ll-tell-you-why’s, while Regal nodded and hmm-ed as much as was polite, his eyes fixed on the opposite corner of the room.

Pete had dressed up for the occasion, substituting his usual button-up for a casual, soft-looking turtleneck, with his belt casually slung over his shoulder – a bit too showy for Regal’s tastes, but the boy had earned the right to be smug after retaining his championship. _Yet again_ , William added in his head, and felt a surge of pride as he looked at the younger man.

It quickly soured. There had been a steady stream of people wanting to congratulate Pete since the show had wrapped – Regal had been on his way to do the same, before he was intercepted by Cole. And then Hunter had arrived...

Regal frowned. He’d never like the way Hunter looked at Pete, and he liked him even less now. The man had been too quick to forgive Dunne for the Gradwell attack, too generous with the compliments afterwards. And now he was standing there, more or less salivating over the boy – _his_ boy – leaning in close like he couldn’t hear him over the noise of the room, a deceptively casual hand lingering on Pete’s waist.

What made it worse was that Pete was lapping it up.

Regal’s grasp tightened around his glass, threatening to break the damned thing.

“Are you alright, William? You seem very tense.” Cole had stopped ranting and was giving Regal a worried look.

“Hm?... Oh, yes, thank you Michael. Just a long day, I’m afraid.” Whatever face he made at Cole was either polite or intimidating enough to make the man drop the subject, and he let his eyes drift back to Pete and Hunter while Cole picked up where he left.

Hunter was leaning in closer now, the _dog_ , close enough that their faces were nearly touching, the hand on Pete’s back dipping even lower. It didn’t make any sense. Pete hated people touching him, barely ever cracked a smile in public, and now he was being downright coy - running his fingers through his hair while he listened to Hunter talk, baring his neck and glancing up at the taller man through his eyelashes. Regal felt like he was going mad. Was no one else seeing this? He licked his lips, eyes fixed on Hunter’s hand brushing the boy’s lower back, right where hem of his sweater met the waist of his trousers, threatening to expose a strip of skin. When he looked up, Pete was staring right at him, their eyes meeting across the room, and Regal could have sworn the little shit smirked at him.

-

He made the following hours pass by imagining all the different ways he could murder Hunter and make it look like an accident. By the time he’d run out of methods, the room was nearly empty. He’d ushered Cole off, excusing himself by blaming some urgent paperwork that absolutely had to be done tonight, _no, honestly Michael, it needs doing, maybe next time, I’m not really one for karaoke anyway._

Hunter was the last to go. Of course he was. The Vice President had been all over Pete like a rash since the moment he’d entered the room, and he loomed over him until the very end, blissfully unaware of Regal’s eyes boring holes into his back as he pulled the smaller man in for a hug that lingered far too long to be professional.

Then, at long last, they were the only people left.

Both of them were where they had been at the beginning of the party, at opposite corners of the room, an invisible diagonal drawn between them – Pete still with his belt draped over his shoulder and Regal still clutching the same glass of tepid champagne. Regal knew the boy was watching him, but frankly, after everything, he was in no particular hurry to make a move. There was no way he was going to give Pete the pleasure of knowing how he’d been stewing in his own juices all night by barrelling over the moment Hunter had gone. So he took his sweet time, keeping half an eye on the door to make sure Hunter had actually gone, before he turned to Pete.

“Congratulations on retaining the championship, Dunne,” he said amiably as he sauntered over, lifting his glass towards the other. “And the 600 days, of course. Very impressive.”

Pete didn’t bother with a reply, though there was the ghost of a smile at the mention of his record run. Fine. If the brat wanted to play games, Regal could talk for them both.

“But I’m sure you’ve heard that enough tonight,” he rambled on, supressing the urge to back the boy up against the wall and demand to know what the hell he thought he was doing. Wipe that half-smile off his face. “There are some big names coming up, looks like you’re going to have your hands full for a while.”

Still nothing from the boy. Just that same knowing look, the slight pull at the corner of his mouth that said he knew _exactly_ what he was doing. The fucking nerve. Feeling the anger simmering just below his skin, Regal cleared his throat and bit the bullet.

“Hunter seemed very pleased with you, as well,” he said, aiming for nonchalance.

“Yeah,” Pete shrugged. “Apparently, he thinks I’m the future of the company. Says I’ve got it in me to become the first British World Champion.”

“Did he, now?” Regal said and nipped at his piss-warm champagne. It tasted bitter as bile. “Well, Hunter always had a flair for the dramatic.”

Rather than be deterred, Pete put his belt down and stepped closer. “He’s got big ambitions for me, you know. Made it clear that he can be a good friend to have around here. Someone to stay close to,” he continued, shark eyes half-lidded. “ _Very_ close.”

Regal grit his teeth. He was all too familiar with the rumours about what a “good friend” Hunter could be to the boys in NXT. And he couldn’t exactly blame Pete for falling under his spell – Hunter was a very charming man. It wasn’t like he was making any wild promises, either. He just hadn’t thought it would take so little to turn him away.

“None of my business, I’m sure.” he said tersely, ready to leave before he did anything he might regret.

“I guess not.”

Something in Pete’s tone made Regal turn back - something breathless and warm - and suddenly the pieces were falling into place. How close Pete was actually standing, his head tilted ever so slightly, looking up at him with challenge in his eyes, pupils blown.

“You did it on purpose,” Regal said, half in disbelief. “You little _whore_.”

Pete’s smug smile deepened. He seemed almost proud of himself. And so was Regal, to his great annoyance – equal parts furious and pleased with his wily brat. The boy’s tongue darted out, wetting his lips.

“What are you going to do about it, _sir_?”

-

The answer turned out to be ‘drag you off to my office and throw you onto my desk’. Which Regal guessed meant his excuse to Cole was at least partially true, even if the paperwork was mainly crumpling under Pete’s back as he slowly slid in and out of him.

It was so obviously not the rough, angry fuck that Pete had been hoping for. The boy was doing everything he could to get a rise out of him, swearing under his breath as he squirmed in Regal’s grip, trying to move with him or against him or simply annoy him until he’d give him what he wanted. Not bloody likely. Regal grinned, grabbing Pete’s wrist in one hand and manhandling them over his head. If the boy wanted to play dirty, he’d get just that. It would be no hardship for William. He’d played far dirtier for far longer than him. And Pete made for an awfully pretty picture like this, all worked up, naked save for his socks and the cute sweater, rucked up to his armpits to expose his flushed chest.

He slowed down even more, grinding into the boy. Pete strained against the grip, trying to hook a leg around Regal’s waist to pull him in, but William easily caught it at the knee and bent it out of the way.

“Come on,” Pete bit out, struggling in vain to wrench his wrists free.

“What was that, Pete?” Regal said, mock-casually. “Something the matter?”

He punctuated it with a single sharp thrust, just to hear Pete choke on his breath and arch off the desk. “I thought this was what you wanted.” Another thrust, his voice sugar-sweet. “Or maybe this will teach you a lesson or two about trying to play games.”

“F-fuck off.”

“Oh, forgot our manners, have we?” Regal said, managing to be smug even while balls deep in the younger man.

“Fuck off, _sir_.”

“That’s better.”

It wasn’t much, but it was probably as good as it was going to get at this point. And William supposed that deserved a reward.

He sped up slightly, skin smacking against skin – and there it was. He loved this part. While the struggle was fun and all, it was something altogether to try and find that point, that final push over the edge that made Pete stop fighting and reveal the other side of himself – the one that was still undeniably him, spiky and stubborn, but who could pant and moan and arch into William's touch. It was almost as if Pete _needed_ to fight, before he allowed himself to be taken, to relax into it.

Regal leant over the boy, watching his eyes go hazy, and let go of his wrists so he could slide the hand under the boy’s neck, nails scraping against the undercut. Initially, he hadn’t been a huge fan of the new, overgrown look, especially the beard. Too unruly. Got in the way of his face when he wrestled. But with a little time, he’d warmed up to it – he could see what Pete was going for. And it was hard to mind much when he could tangle his fingers in his hair just so and pull the boy’s head up until their foreheads were nearly touching. He released the boy’s thigh, sliding his hand up to dig his fingers into the meat of his hip as he rocked into him, holding him down for each deep push. Trapped between Regal’s hands, Pete couldn’t move, couldn’t look away, couldn’t do anything but gasp and take it. 

He clutched at the older man, desperate to hold onto something, and clamped a sweaty palm over the back of his neck. Regal kept the pace purposefully slow, intent on making the boy beg for it. The poor thing had no idea what was in store for him. He tightened his hold on Pete’s hair, sending tiny sparks of pain across his scalp, fucking into him with firm, unhurried thrusts. Pete scraped his mouth against Regal’s shoulder, groaning into it as his dick dragged against his prostate. William could tell it was just shy of enough. The boy was nearly there, so close he could taste it in the air between them, silently pleading.

“Go on.”

Pete didn’t need to be told twice and snaked a hand down to wrap around his aching cock. Soon enough, the boy jerked against him, biting down on his shoulder as he came.

Regal didn’t stop.

“W-wai-“

He gripped Pete’s leg, nearly folding him in half as he fucked him past his orgasm. The boy was fighting to get the words out, his voice tight and urgent, hands pawing uselessly at the other man.

“A-ah-“

“You didn’t honestly think it was going to be that simple, did you, sweetheart? After your little display?” Regal said, using his weight to hold him down.

“I’m s-, pl-uh-“

“Bite.”

Regal was pressing the hem of Pete’s sweater against his lips. There were spatters of cum on it, light specks on grey. Pete was too busy simply breathing to respond, but bit down on it, moaning brokenly when William didn’t slow down at all. He dragged his hand down Pete’s bare chest to rub his thumb over the hard nubs of his nipples, feeling them peak under his touch, pressing into the soft flesh until the boy was shaking with it, keening sharply around his mouthful. Every part of him felt sensitive almost to the point of pain. He writhed, trying to get away from Regal’s unrelenting touch, but William stilled him, holding him down by his hips and pounded into the boy until he could feel him coming again, wailing into the fabric of the sweater.

By the third time (or was it maybe the fourth), Pete was crying from the overstimulation – big fat, honest-to-god tears running down his red cheeks, lips bitten, twitching with every drive into his over-sensitive body. He looked _wrecked_. Regal was almost worried he’d gone too far – the boy could barely hold his head up – but flickering behind his eyes, there was still that familiar gleam of defiance. He’d made no attempt to hide the tears, defiant even as he was being taken apart. “Good boy,” Regal murmured, mostly to himself, running a thumb along the boy’s jawline to his panting mouth. Holding Regal’s gaze with red-rimmed eyes, Pete bit down gently on the digit. His breath was almost burning hot around it. William swallowed, pushing down on the boy’s bottom lip, before he withdrew it, adjusting his grip on the boy’s thigh so he could angle his hips a little higher, and then Pete was coming for a third time, sobbing with it. 

-

He made him come once more, just because he could - pulled the boy off the desk and bent him over it, legs shaking, one arm wrenched behind his back, and the other clawing weakly at the now-useless documents beneath him as he cried and begged. He couldn’t help it. He was becoming greedy. Somewhere along the road it had stopped being about what Pete needed or what Pete deserved, and Regal wasn’t sure when. Perhaps it was when Hunter had touched Pete so easily. Perhaps it was moments ago when Pete had kept his arm bent behind his back even after he’d released it. Perhaps much earlier than either.

Perhaps it had never been so simple.

Suddenly, there was a noise outside, a rattle of voices making their way down the corridor. Regal stopped immediately, buried to the hilt in Pete, and quickly clamped a hand over the boy’s mouth.

“Don’t make a sound.”

The voices were getting closer – close enough that they could make out Hunter’s voice among them.

_“…really not like Pete to leave his title. He has to be in the building somewhere.”_

Pete tensed under him. Fuck. How could they have forgotten about the belt? Regal stared at the door, hoping to God he’d remembered to lock it behind them, while Pete tried to push himself up on unsteady arms. He was fully aware of how bad this would if someone, and _especially_ if Hunter, were to walk in right now – him with the NXT poster boy bent over a desk on company property, Pete in tears and barely able to keep himself up. It would be more than ‘a bit not good’. But as Hunter’s steps crept closer and closer towards the office door, he couldn’t shake the image of the man’s possessive hands on Pete’s waist, Pete fluttering his eyelashes at him. Pete meeting his eyes from across the room and smirking. Without thinking, he pressed closer to the boy, eyes still fixed on the door. Each approaching step rang through the room, like the tolls of heavy bells.

“You hear that?” he muttered against Pete’s ear. “Hunter’s looking for you.”

He could feel Pete swallow, struggling to calm himself as Regal rolled his hips.

“It would be terribly rude of us to ignore him.”

Words could not describe what a terrible idea this was. If he was _lucky_ , he’d lose his job. He didn’t even want to think about what would happen to Pete. But something dark and mean and nasty in him had taken over, talking for him, moving his body. Pete whimpered against his palm, hands grasping at the desk as he ground against his prostate.

“What do you think? Maybe I should call him in. Let him see what his golden boy really is,” he said, nearly delirious, and pressed a dry kiss against Pete’s temple – not much more than a peck, but it made the boy gasp and clench around him.

The steps had stopped. Regal held his breath, tightening his hold over Pete’s mouth. All he could hear was the boy’s wet, uneven breaths and his own pulse beating in his ears. He could almost see Hunter’s hand go to the door handle.

Any moment now. Any moment.

And then –

 

Nothing.

 

There was a moment of deafening silence. Then the steps were fading, disappearing down the other side of the hallway.

Regal thought he might actually faint. Or worse. He took his damp hand off Pete’s mouth and let the boy sag down to the desk, bracing his arms on each side of him. The adrenaline was surging through him, his whole body was thrumming with it. He couldn’t believe what he’d nearly let happen – to the both of them. The boy was boneless, his bowed back rising and falling sharply. William ran a hand over his face. He felt like he ought to say something, something to make some kind of sense of it, to undo it all, but he had no idea what he _could_ say.

Just as he was about to open his mouth, Pete lifted his hand, fumbling blindly until he found Regal’s and laced their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. For a moment, William’s mind went blank.

“Pete…” he started, but was cut off by a gentle squeeze from the hand around his. Pete was looking up at him, red-faced and bleary-eyed and beautifully messed up, something raw and unguarded in his expression. Without thinking, Regal reached down to brush the hair away from the boy’s face.

He moved before either of them were stupid enough to say anything more. They were both close, worn out and high on the near-disaster still pumping through their system. He fucked Pete quickly, hips snapping against his, watching Pete bite down on his own fist to try and stop the sounds from escaping, before he was coming yet again, knees buckling against the side of the desk and his breath catching in his throat, Regal close behind.

-

Afterwards, Pete was lost to the world, held up mostly by the desk and gulping down greedy lungfuls of air. William looked down on their fingers still interlaced against the desktop. His brain was buzzing pleasantly.

He let them be, just for a little while longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated - let me know what you think!


End file.
